Josh growls, “What?!”
“Grab two blocks and a blanket from the stack. We’re waiting for you!”
Josh Arosio
Of all the yoga studios in New York I had to walk into hers. Humphrey Bogart, I get it now.
Avoiding curious strangers who are pretending to return to their meditation but are sitting straighter with ears perked in my direction, I grab two spongy blocks, a damn yoga blanket, and cut a scathing glance to Tempest on the way back to a fire-engine-red mat I bought on my way here.
Tempest has continued guiding them through a breathing exercise, but that annoyed exhale from her nose isn’t part of it.
I drop one block to bounce on a hardwood floor, do the same with the other but use more force, and toss my blanket next to them with a loud thump before locking eyes with Tempest, growling, “Happy now?”
Her full lips go razor thin, bare shoulders suddenly rigid in a lavender yoga top that showcases every curve of large breasts, nimble legs twisted like a purple pretzel with feet. “Take a seat. Close your eyes. And breathe!”
“I could just go!”
“You stay right there!!”
The entire class stops breathing, looking from me to Tempest, not that I give a shit. I don’t know these people.
I shout, “I need to relax!”
“Don’t I know it!”
“I mean I needed a class because I need to relax!”
Tempest unhooks her legs and leaps up with the speed of a cheetah. “That’s why you’re not leaving! Now sit down!” She addresses her class, “I apologize, everyone. Josh and I know each other. My sister and my cousin are dating his best friends.” A collective reaction dominoes through the room as if what she just said solves everything.
When it doesn’t.
Not for me.
It’s not the solution.
It’s the problem!
Turning my back to her I snatch back up the blocks and blanket. “I’m outta here!”
Tempest counters, “You know what would be awe-inspiring? If you worked through that anger by staying put and letting me teach you how to relax despite it.”
“You don’t have that skill.”
“Try me!”
We snarl at each other until I drop the blanket, the blocks, and sit down. “Give it your best shot. Shock me.”
Taking a deep breath, she opens her full lips to speak, but this time, rather than snapping at me, the soothing melody I heard when I arrived — before I was spotted — returns for the benefit of her class and my challenge.
She does not look at me, not once that I’m aware of, for the rest of the hour.
I, however, am forced to watch the graceful twisting, extending, and unravelling of a body so limber it makes me angry I’m here. Long brown hair with slender braids pinned back from her relaxed face, floats like it’s under water as she demonstrates what we’re all meant to do. When Tempest bends over in a position she calls Downward Dog, my mind races to places I do not want it to.
I Tucking hate this.
I mean, fucking!
I fucking hate this.
Dammit! I’ve picked up that game the Tuck family plays where they substitute their surname for the curse word. After hearing my friends, Bennett and Nax, use it all the time it’s infiltrated my mind. I won’t let it.
I get why they fell for Christina and Zia. The Tuck cousins bring out the best in my buddies, and that’s great.
For them.
I like the family, too. They’re very close and extremely chill. I took note of that at the single party I attended that was held at Tempest’s and Christina’s. That was the night we met, God help me.
I kept away from her as much as I could, taking the first exit available from our group conversation, as soon as Bennett was invited to meet Christina’s family one by one as her official boyfriend. As soon as I got away from Tempest I had a good time. It was a diverse mix and all ages were welcome. Even their grandparents enjoyed hot dogs and burgers grilled on a rooftop deep in Brooklyn. Everywhere I looked people were enjoying themselves, laughing or enjoying a good debate. I was able to relax, when I wasn’t near Tempest. I told Nax that to me what they had is what family is supposed to be. I know my own isn’t like that. Parties were only for holidays that felt more like competition than connection.
And that’s all great.
For them.
But Tempest Tuck rubs me the wrong way.
And right now she’s making me hold positions for longer than seems possible, her silent footsteps traveling between mats to guide and touch those who need adjustments. If she touches me I’ll bite her head off.
From this position I can’t see anything higher than her calves and lavender toenails as they come closer.
Pause.
Closer.
Pause.
Closer.
She stops at the woman next to me, “That’s good, Joan. Your posture is improving.”
Joan gasp-laughs, “Took me long enough,” struggling not to sway and tip.
I’m expecting Tempest to come to me, next because my body is twisted like a rope that’s been cut. I tense, teeth gnawing themselves to nubs.
I’m not getting the hang of this.
It’s ridiculous.
I’m a gym rat.
A blue belt in Muay Tai.
I expect more of myself.
But sweat slides down my neck, my temples, the fabric drenched between my shoulder blades and pecs.
When you workout with weights, it tears your muscles so that they grow, reshape, tighten. Stretching them like this is really rough.
Lavender toenails pivot away.
My jaw loosens and I shake my head.
When the hour is finally up, Tempest says in a voice that’s probably soothing to others, “Very good, everyone. Now let’s lie down for our final pose, Shavasana. Use your blanket as a pillow if you’d like. Cover yourself to
